


Grief

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Fran ~ God bless</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grief

## Grief 

by DannyD

Disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to Paramount, PetFly, Sci-Fi; no copyright infringement is intended, no money made. If you wanna sue me, do it. I truly don't care today. 

Notes: I'm sad, trying to digest the loss of a lovely person I've never met in person. I remember a conversation I had with Fran Cross back then about the "courage" of writing NC-17 stuff. We joked around and she admired me for having already crossed the line. She was still trying to write 'all-the-way'. This story here is anything but sensual or hot or NC-17 worthy, or even good. It's my tribute to Fran. If she read this, she would probably shake her head and roll her eyes at me. Geez, Danny, you're pathetic. Yeah, I can hear you. 

Thanks to Ula, Beth and Tricia for the quick beta job. 

For Fran 

* * *

Grief  
By DannyD 

The wind howled through the loft, rattling at the blinds in protest. A cool breeze drifted into the living-room from under the front door. Heavy rain prattled against the window in a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm. 

Standing at the oven and stirring the spaghetti sauce, Blair Sandburg was oblivious to the doomsday concept outside. He gently bounced on his toes as he tried the sauce - a new recipe from his email friend in Milano. "You gonna love the oregano, big guy," Blair grinned widely imagining the romantic candlelit dinner he had in mind for his lover. Jim was due back any minute; the working day probably left him exhausted - but hopefully not too exhausted for a sensual evening. 

Blair reduced the oven's heat and walked over to the living room where his laptop sat on the table. A quick email to his Italian friend to thank him for the fabulous recipe. Hitting the 'send' button, the message vanished into cyberspace. At the same moment the front door opened. 

"Heeeey, you're on time!" Blair cheered, jumping off the couch. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his lover's appearance. "Jim...," he whispered, knowing immediately something was wrong, something had happened, something terrible enough to shake up the Sentinel. 

With an indescribable expression - haunted would be a word that crossed Blair's mind - Jim slowly took a step forward into the apartment. Then he ceased his motion as if he didn't know what to do next. His gaze met Blair's, a helpless plea ...for what?... out of those blazing blue eyes. His clothes were wet. Rainwater dropped from his jacket to the floor, wetting the wooden ground where Jim stood still as a statue. Small tremors shook his large frame, as the haunted look riveted on Blair. 

"Jim? What's wrong, man?" In a few quick strides, Blair approached the older man, reaching out to touch the wet clothes. "Oh God, you're ice-cold." Quickly, he slid his hands under Ellison's jacket, shrugging it off the broad shoulders. As his lover didn't react to his touch, Blair spoke again. "Jim? What is it? Are you hurt?" 

Another wild gust of wind shook the loft. Like a weak leaf in the storm, Jim's strong body seemed to collapse under its power. His knees buckled and the shivers ravaging him increased with each passing minute. 

Unable to catch his falling love, Blair supported Jim's dead weight as best as he could. Both men dropped to the floor. "Please talk to me, Jim," Blair spoke in a calm voice. "Let me know how I can help you." Still receiving no reply, the young man engulfed the detective in a fierce hug. His cheeks pressed into the wet shirt, supporting the strong chest with this simple action of love. 

The shaking grew worse becoming violent spasms. Weakly, Jim struggled to bring his arms around Blair, a frustrating sob escaping his throat as his limbs wouldn'tcooperate. 

Still sitting on the ground, Blair raised on his knees. With utmost tenderness he grabbed Jim's face, turning the distressed features until their eyes locked. The older man's eyes swam in unshed tears, ripping apart Blair's heart as he watched. Carefully, he drew Jim closer. Feeling the shaking seeping into his own body, Blair kissed Jim gently, carefully like he was made out of precious china. Their lips merged, giving and receiving strength from each other. 

The two men reminded like this for a long time, lips locked, bodies anchoring each other. Slowing but gradually Jim's tremors ceased. Strength returned and he embraced Blair crushingly. His hands roamed over the younger man's back, a loving caress born out of need and fear. 

Sensing his lover's motives, Blair spoke softly. "I'm here, big guy, I've got you. I've got you." He tried to bend backwards a bit to look at Jim, but the bigger tightened his hold. Following the directive, Blair laid his head against Jim's shoulder. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere." 

After a minute Jim sighed deeply. "I'm...sorry," he murmured, his voice raspy with emotions. He didn't loosen his vicelike grip. "I... I don't want..." he broke off burying his face in Blair's velvet curls. The scent of fruity shampoo wavered through his nose. 

"What?" Blair probed gently, mimicking his lover's motions as he stroked his back. However, a quick, denying shake of head was the only answer he got. Quickly, Blair added, "You don't have to tell me, Jim. Just let me be there for you." When Jim finally spoke, his muffled words sent shivers down his spine. 

"I don't want to ever lose you." Ellison quivered as the wind howled again outside, sending another chill through his body. 

"You won't." Blair promised firmly, knowing though that such a promise couldn't be kept. 

"Don't die on me, you hear me?" A pained plea, uttered by a man whose fears rarely broke to the surface. 

"Okay." Blair smiled reassuringly against the broad chest. 

"Promise me!" 

"Jim...," Blair began, entangling himself from the embrace. "What's wrong? He looked at Jim, gently stroking the older man's face. "Talk to me, love. What happened?" 

This time Jim initiated the contact. Capturing Blair's mouth, they kissed deeply. Blood rushed through their veins, warming him from the inside. Still, he shivered in the wet clothes that clung to his skin. 

"You're cold," Blair observed and rubbed Jim's back. "Let's get you into something warm." 

With Jim snuggled into his warm robe and Blair snuggled at his side, the two men sat down on the couch, an additional blanket providing extra warmth. Outside, the wind still howled like a wounded animal. Occasionally, small tremors surged through the bigger man's body and whenever a shiver ran through, Blair tightened his hold. 

"I'm sorry I freaked out like that," the Sentinel murmured after a while. His fingers wove through the thick mane of curls. "I received a phone call today. An old friend of mine passed away last night." He went silent, pulling his lover impossibly closer. "Clara was a good friend." 

"Oh God, I'm sorry, man." Blair said in a low voice, resting his head on Jim's shoulder. 

"We met 6 years ago," Jim continued. "We were real friends, buddies, you know? There are people who say it's not possible for a man and a woman to have a friendship without sex. It was different with Clara. I could count on her; we never dated or anything. Being friends was more important to us." 

"How...?" Blair started carefully, uncertain if he could ask the painful question. 

The detective swallowed hard. "Car accident," was all he could say before he voice cracked. After a while he added, "A friend of hers told me this morning." 

"Why didn't you call me?" Blair asked gently, his fingertips brushing over the hands holding him. 

"There wasn't any time." Jim shrugged. 

Shaking his head in disbelief, Blair turned his head to face his lover. "So you waited eight hours, drowning in your grief, before you ...," he trailed off. "It's okay to cry, Jim, even for the big guys." 

"Driving home I suddenly had this - this feeling how it would be if you -" Jim closed his eyes allowing his tears to pearl down his face. "I didn't want her to die." He bowed his head and brought up one hand to cover his eyes. 

He was home with Blair, where nobody judged him for his emotions. Now he could grieve; now he could cry. 

The End. 


End file.
